


Killing Alec

by vlaurie17



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Assassins & Hitmen, Assassin Magnus Bane, CIA Agent Alec Lightwood, CIA Agent Isabelle Lightwood, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Hacker Simon Lewis, Killing Eve AU, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-24
Updated: 2019-05-24
Packaged: 2020-03-13 08:44:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,294
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18937459
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vlaurie17/pseuds/vlaurie17
Summary: Bored, desk-bound CIA Agent, Alec Lightwood begins leading a team to track down illustrious psychopath and assassin, Magnus Bane, as both men grow more and more obsessed with each other...AKAKilling Eve with Malec





	1. Nice Face

**Author's Note:**

> Most of the dialogue comes from Phoebe Waller-Bridge's award-nominated screenplay for the Killing Eve Pilot "Nice Face": https://m.emmys.com/sites/default/files/collateral/118%20Killing%20Eve%20-%20Ep.1%20BBC%20AMERICA%20Seamless%20Script.pdf 
> 
> Neither the characters nor the dialogue belong to me. I've just mashed them together for my own satisfaction.

It was an overcast sunday and Magnus Bane was perched in an ice cream parlor in Vienna, twirling his spoon in boredom, lazily licking sorbet off the silverware.

 

Nothing about the man was actually boring, from the bright red tips of his hair to his contoured cheekbones to his immaculately fitted black and white pinstripe suit. Yet, Magnus was still bored.

 

Across the restaurant he saw a young mom flipping through a magazine while her son determinedly coated his mouth in chocolate. The blonde kid’s bright blue eyes widened in curiosity as they met Magnus’s catlike gaze. So Magnus lifted the corner of his lips in a gesture that could be mistaken for a smile. The kid wasn’t convinced, and he felt the smile melt of his face like the drops of raspberry dripping onto the checkered tablecloth as he watched the little boy drop his eyes and continue eating.

 

His eyes narrowed as he watched the kid’s wary gaze turn to the side before he lit up with a toothy, chocolate covered grin. Magnus slid his own gaze behind the ice cream counter and saw an employee in a silly striped vest and bowtie grinning widely at the boy. The man winked. Magnus analyzed the way the man’s cheeks filled out, his eyes softened, and the corners of his eyes crinkled. His face relaxed before falling into another smile.

 

Magnus forced his features to mimic the grin. It stretched his cheeks uncomfortably. He crinkled the corner of his eyes, but didn’t know how to lessen their intensity. _How clownlike I must look_ , he mused. But it worked, and the blonde boy gave him the same sappy and trusting chocolate smile he’d given the employee.

 

Magnus smiled for real without baring his teeth. _So stupid and gullible_. He looked down at his silver rolex and wiped away a drop of wet blood with his manicured thumb. He got up, grabbing his passport and plane ticket, feeling the employee’s eyes on him.

 

 _That really is the ugliest damn uniform_ , he thought as he dropped two pennies into the man’s tip jar.

 

He strode towards the exit, with one final glance at the oblivious little boy stuffing his face with ice cream, and without a second thought, he reached down and knocked the parfait glass into the boy’s lap.

 

He didn’t turn around, but he could hear the child’s shocked gasp and the mother’s confusion, and Magnus Bane felt his face contort into his second genuine smile of the day.

 

His first real smile had occurred as he’d watched Victor Kedrin collapse from across the street, bleeding out of the puncture wound to his femoral artery that he’d just poked without him or his model girlfriend noticing.

 

He’d laughed as the man’s pant leg grew saturated with blood while his face contorted in absolute confusion and his leggy girlfriend screamed in cartoonish horror.

 

 _Today was a fun day_ , he decided as he strode out into the streets of Vienna.

 

\-----------------------------------

 

Alexander Gideon Lightwood woke up screaming and flailing underneath his sweat soaked sheets on an overcast Sunday morning in New York.

 

“Alec! Alec!” A delicate hand wrapped itself around his bicep in a soothing motion.

 

The owner of the hand proceeded to shake his shoulder, trying to rouse him from whatever nightmare he was trapped in, “Whoa! Darling! What is it!” Alec’s screams didn’t cease, “I can’t..”

 

The soft voice grew panicked, “Oh my god darling wake up, it's ok!” After one last blood curdling scream from Alec, the hand finally managed to roll his ridiculously tall body over onto his back. He finally started to breathe again.

 

“What was it, was it, was it –” the woman’s voice shook.

 

Alec finally came to, unshuttering his bleary hazel eyes to stare up at his wife Lydia. Her ice blue eyes searched his face for answers and he widened his own boyishly, “I fell asleep on both my arms,” he admitted.

 

Lydia looked at him in disbelief for a moment.

 

Alec blew some of his dark hair off his face and wiggled his fingers, “Oh. Oh they're coming back now.”

 

Lydia sunk back over to her side of their master bed with a frustrated huff, blowing some of her own sweaty blonde locks out of her face. “Jesus! My heart! You freak!” she complained.

 

Alec stretched his long limbs like a cat and got comfortable once more, turning to face Lydia. He gave her his best innocent puppy dog face. “I’m sorry. It was scary.” Lydia rolled her eyes, but didn’t manage to hide a hint of her own amusement, “Yeah, it was!” Alec just laughed in return while Lydia visibly resisted the urge to swat him.

 

Alec’s arms weren’t the only part of his body that had decided to make themselves known. His brain felt like cotton. “Oh, Jesus, my head,” he groaned, “What time did we leave the Hunter’s Moon last night?”

 

Lydia smiled, “It all ended when you and Luke sang "A Whole New World".

 

He blushed at that but said, “Oh yeah. _Nobody_ could follow that.” Lydia just giggled softly.

 

Alec smiled over at his best friend and pulled the duvet up to his chin, “At least we have all weekend to recov-”

 

Alec’s smartphone started ringing loudly and vibrating its way towards the edge of the side table. “That’s not your-?”

 

“Work ringtone?” Alec sighed, “yes, it is.”

 

Lydia patted her husband’s arm in sympathy, and he pulled the duvet over his head and groaned before reaching over to unlock it.

  


\------------------------------------

 

Alec stumbled through the doors of the Brooklyn CIA field office, just in time to see his younger sister, Isabelle, leaning against a wall, waiting for him while picking at a croissant with shiny bright red nails.

 

 _How come she always looks so put together?_ He complained to himself. Afterall, she’d had just as many shots as he’d had at the bar on Saturday night.

 

He rolled his eyes fondly at her, “Oh my god, Izzy.”

 

She simply unpeeled herself from the marble, “Happy Saturday. You were superb last night.”

 

The Lightwood siblings fell into sync with one another and continued down the corridor.

 

Alec rolled his eyes for the second time in sixty seconds, “Thank you. What's going on?” He changed the subject quickly, but not before adding, “Did you get me a croissant too?”

 

Izzy scrunched her perfectly done eyebrows, “No. D’you want the rest of this?” she shook the half eaten pastry under his nose while he glared at it.

 

“Of course I want the rest of that.”

 

“Uh huh,” Izzy said, handing it over, watching in amusement and disgust as her big brother shoved it into his mouth all at once.

 

She forged ahead, filling the shiny corridor with the clicking of her five inch heels while Alec, despite his extreme height advantage, struggled to keep up.

 

“How are you so perky?” he complained after managing to swallow his breakfast, “You left Hunter’s Moon after I did!”

 

Izzy shrugged, “I went for a run this morning and then I ate some coal. Apparently, it's a thing. I feel great...Anyways,” Her face became serious, “from what I could eavesdrop on, A Russian sex trafficking politician has been murdered in Vienna-”

 

“Oh no!” Alec sarcastically lamented as they broke through the double doors.

 

“I know, a real tragedy,” his sister agreed. “Why are they crying about it here?” he wondered.

 

“Don't know,” Izzy shrugged again, somehow managing to pick up the pace even more. Alec fell behind once more, “Was it a contract kill?”

 

“I don’t know.” Alec rolled his eyes for the third time in a minute, a new record. “You _really_ earn your money ya know.” Izzy wasn’t bothered, “I have no idea what we do here,” she responded playfully.

 

Alec sighed, “Get me a croissant for starters.” Izzy’s smirk widened, and she reached into her Hermes to pull out a second croissant still warm in the brown paper bag. Alec’s eyes lit up, “This is why you’re my favorite sister.” She laughed. She was, in fact, his only sister.

 

At last, they approached a set of shiny, official looking wooden doors and paused. “Right, everyone's in there with Aldertree.” Alec nodded, “Cool,” and watched as Izzy spied through the slim window in the middle, doing recon. “And huh,” She tensed, “It’s Imogen Herondale.”

 

“Who?” Alec asked through a bite of his croissant.

 

“Part of the DO. Russian Division. I’d nail a cousin to work with that woman. Stone cold badass.”

 

“Please refrain from nailing any cousins, I don’t think Maryse or Robert would approve.” Izzy ignored him. “But I’ll put in a good word,” he offered. Izzy looked at him pleadingly, “Please don’t, _hermano_ . _You’re_ the late one here.”  

 

Alec opened the door and entered the dimly lit conference room.

 

He tried to sneak in subtley, but it’s hard to do anything subtly when you’re 6’3’’ and dressed in all black. It didn’t help that the paper bag containing his croissant crinkled loudly in the silent room. Regardless, he slipped into a chair next to his boss, Luke Garroway.

 

Across from him sat Victor Aldertree and Imogen Herondale, both glaring at him in annoyance.

 

Luke however, looked somewhat amused, in that calm way of his, “Professional. Where did you get that?” he reached toward the pastry bag before Alec pulled it towards his body territorially.

 

Aldertree coughed and looked constipated as per usual, “ Ok, well thank you all for giving us your Saturday,” he said, although his nose scrunched when he looked at Alec’s rumpled countenance. Imogen simply stared down at her sleek watch, looking unimpressed.

 

“Turns out people are still murderous bastards on the weekend,” Aldertree half-assed a joke and received half-assed pity chuckles in response. He squirmed in his chair before turning to his left, “This is Imogen Herondale, Head of the Russian Division.” He nodded at Luke, “And you’ve met Lucian Garroway.”

 

Alec could tell he wanted to roll his eyes at the use of his full name, but Luke remained stoic, “Hi,” he nodded toward the table at large.

 

Aldertree continued, “And his _late_ assistant..” He didn’t bother finishing, so Alec straightened up to his full height, “Alec Lightwood. My apologies, I’m s –”

 

Aldertree cut him off, “They assess and provide diplomatic protection for important visitors to this neighborhood of New York and will be your liaison,” he directed at Imogen who just nodded sedately.

 

Aldertree squirmed again under her disapproving silence, “It was Lucian’s er, birthday party last night. They don't normally look this sweaty,” He tried.

 

Luke took pity on him, “It was just a spontaneous thing.”

 

Aldertree looked back at Imogen and gulped, awaiting her assessment. Imogen seemed ready to grace the table with words.

 

“Good morning -” Suddenly, her severely lined eyes were on Alec, along with everyone else’s. He looked down to see his own traitorous hand reaching towards his croissant, loudly crinkling the bag. He pulled back slowly, blushing bright red. It wasn’t his fault his food was going to get cold.

 

Imogen swallowed her judgement, “There's been an assassination in Vienna.” Alec quickly and quietly stuffed some croissant into his mouth while Luke eyed him in his periphery. “Victor Kedrin was a Russian politician visiting Austria last week.” Aldertree quickly shoved a photograph over to Luke and Alec.

 

Alec thought he had a ratface. Luke didn’t seem too moved either. “He was not a popular man, but he had an unfortunately high profile,” Imogen continued, “Yesterday, Kedrin was coming out of an - exceptionally good, by the way - sushi restaurant near the Stephansplatz with his girlfriend Kasia Molkowska.” Once more, Aldertree obliged with a glossy photo.

 

Alec looked at the girl’s cheap modelling headshot. He and Luke exchanged raised eyebrows. Alec might not have ever dated anyone but Lydia, but he still knew this girl was out of the rat-faced Russian’s league.

 

“Somehow, about 50 yards from the restaurant the assassin managed to slice Kedrin's femoral artery with a blade without him or his girlfriend noticing. He was bleeding for about a minute before he collapsed.” This time, Alec’s long fingers hovered over an autopsy shot. There it was: One, neat, small knife-hole in his thigh. Alec breathed out, “Cool.”

 

He looked up to see varying levels of surprise and disgust from everyone at the table, even Luke. Alec avoided his eye and flushed in embarrassment waiting for Imogen to go on, which she did after a long moment, “Er, his girlfriend is the only witness, but she fled the scene. Interpol traced her here to the US. She was picked up in Brooklyn this morning and needs protection.”

 

Alec leaned over to whisper to Luke, “$50 says he’s gay.”

Imogen, unfortunately, seemed to hear, “Sorry?” she questioned. Alec bit his lip, “Sorry, uh, nothing,” but Imogen’s cold eyes lingered. Her icy blue irises reminded him of Lydia when she was truly angry at him, and it unnerved him.

 

Luke used his best deep, reassuring tone, “We’ll be sure to sort it -”

 

“Was there any CCTV of the killer?” Alec couldn’t help but blurt out.

 

It was Aldertree that answered, “No. No, as far as we know it was just a blind spot.” Alec looked over to see Imogen gathering her things, “Thank you for your time. I imagine the girl is quite traumatised. She’s the only witness. Surround her with humans will you.” And with that, the meeting seemed to be dismissed.

 

Alec tried to remain silent, but that hadn’t been going well for him so far, so he decided to forget about it, “I said it was probably a gay man. Or even, possibly a woman. Victor Kedrin was a homophobe, misogynist, and a sex trafficker. He may not have considered a visibly queer person or woman a threat. They must have been able to get close.”

 

Aldertree dismissed his argument by walking to the door, but Imogen paused, “Thank you. Thank you, Alec.” Then she was gone.

 

When the door closed, Luke sighed heavily and ran a hand over his face. Alec just grinned at him until he opened his eyes. “She said _Alec_.”

 

“Congratulations.” They both stood up, Luke to escape the stifling room, and Alec, so he could go find Izzy and gloat.

 

Luke pointed at the remains of Alec croissant still sitting between them, leaving crumbs on the nice table. “Give me the rest of that or I'll fire you.” Alec handed it over without a fight, mind already completely focused on puncture wounds and evidence.

 

He pointed at Kasia’s picture, “I want to meet that witness. If I'm right then -”

 

Luke put a kind, but firm hand on his shoulder, “ _No_. Not your job. Get her secure and get her some clothes. Please don't make this a thing, I'm feeling very fragile today.” Alec scoffed at the idea of Luke Garroway being anything other than a rock in a storm. They headed out together.

 

Alec couldn’t let it go, “I’m telling you, he’s gay,” he mumbled as they reached the door where Aldertree was still lingering. “ Happy birthday, Lucian,” he muttered passive aggressively, keeping his head down.

 

Luke rolled his eyes, since he was, after all, Alec’s mentor. “It was just a bit of karaoke, Victor.”


	2. Nice Face pt II

Magnus Bane exited the Paris Metro looking effortlessly fabulous. He wore a long trench coat, his hair was streaked with soft blonde, and his makeup was warm and natural, minus the glitter on the apples of his cheeks. His arms were weighed down with shopping bags advertising the stores of Rue Cambon.

 

He strode down various cobblestoned streets in his heeled boots without missing a beat. His eyes caught on various, average looking passerby. They all looked so boring to him.

 

Finally, he turned onto a Parisian back street and entered the checkered floor of his lobby. He paused to check his PO box when he looked up to see the ancient looking Madame Dorothea struggling to walk down the spiral stairs holding two limp trash bags. The old lady was breathing heavily and each step drew a pitiful creaking sound from her birdlike bones. Magnus smirked before bending down and slapping his knees and smiling encouragingly like he would towards a puppy.

 

“Allez, tu vas y arriver!” _Come on, you can do it!_

 

Madame Dorothea just gave a croak that sounded like a laugh. “Connasse! C'était court le voyage.” _Asshole. That was a short trip._

 

Magnus smiled. “Les rencontres professionnelles sont meilleur face à face.” _Business meetings are better in person_.

 

“Ah. Tu es très chic ma grande.” _You're a classy kid_. As if Magnus had ever been a kid.

 

Madame Dorothea gave one last mighty groan before leaving the final step and somehow managing to open the heavy doors with the bags still in her gnarled hands. Magnus smiled teasingly as he began ascending the stairs himself and called out, “Tu veux de l'aide avec tes sacs?” _Do you want help with your bags?_

 

Madame Dorothea barely turned. “Connasse!” _Asshole!_ As soon as she was out of sight completely, Magnus’s smile faded completely, leaving his face blank.

 

Magnus dropped his keys off in a bowl as he entered his loft. Brick walls framed the large windows which exposed the afternoon Parisian skyline, framed by gauzy curtains. Magnus adeptly placed a new record, and soon the spacious loft was filled with music.

 

Magnus had chosen Domenico Scarlatti’s Fugue in G Minor or the “Cat Fugue” so called because Scarlatti’s cat had produced it by walking across the keys one day. Magnus looked at his own cat, Chairman Meow, and hissed at him before Chairman hissed back. “Maybe one day, you too can produce something worthwhile,” Magnus jibed. Chairman just stared back at him while he shed his coat, revealing an exceedingly tight button up which he unbuttoned with a sigh of relief.

 

He kicked off his heels and tight pants as well, wrapping himself in a silky kimono style robe before lowering himself in front of his vanity, eying himself in the mirror. He squished the skin on his forehead together, checking for wrinkles, and smoothing his skin in inspection. He smiled, “Wow,” then sighed, “Beautiful.”

 

Abruptly, he reached into the middle drawer and pulled out a compact filled with pale setting powder and began caking it all over his tanned face. Next, he raided his sink, dragging multiple pill bottles to the living room where he scattered pills at random across the coffee table. Finally, he picked up a bottle of vodka and cupped it in a limp wrist while he slouched across his sofa, trying to appear dead.

 

First, he tried out a peaceful, sedate expression, then giggled to himself and settled on a wide, dead eyed stare and spread eagle limbs. He sat there frozen, waiting. Chairman grew bored of watching him, and padded off to the bedroom.

 

At last he heard the tell tale sound of the front door creaking and knew it must be his handler, Ragnor entering. He heard cautious footsteps approach, then the music suddenly shut off as Ragnor Fell lifted the needle. “Magnus?”

 

Magnus didn’t move a muscle, continuing to stare without seeing.

 

Ragnor stepped close enough that Magnus could smell his familiar mothball scent. “Magnus?” he asked again, leaning down towards the sofa.

 

Magnus did nothing. “I can see you breathing, you know.” Ragnor stood there and stared. Suddenly, Magnus leapt up and screamed loudly, and Ragnor startled slightly, already beginning a chuckle while Magnus cackled gleefully, “I got you!” His handler just sighed, “Yes.” But Magnus went on, “A bit! Admit it! A tiny bit!” Again Ragnor chuckled, “A _tiny_ bit, yes,” he grinned.

 

“Were you scared?” Magnus’s catlike eyes gleamed.

 

“No.”

 

“Did you think I was dead?” Magnus asked in disbelief.

 

“ _No_ ,” Ragnor defended.

 

Magnus smiled, “Would you be sad?”

 

Ragnor put on a somber face, “Of course.” It just made magnus cackle more, before scrunching his lips together in a pout and squeezing Ragnor’s cheeks, “haha, your face.” He gloated, “Got you!” one more time before spinning around and falling backwards on the couch.

 

“How was Vienna?” Magnus’ handler perched himself on a chair opposite him.

 

“Good,” he hummed, “Quick. But I’m tired..” he trailed off, playing with the strings of his robe. “Of course,” nodded Ragnor. Magnus threw out, “Do you want to stay and watch a movie?” Ragnor opened his mouth to dissent, but Magnus beat him to it, doing a posh impersonation of his handler’s british accent, “No, I can’t, I’m sorry.”

 

Ragnor just gave a long suffering sigh and pulled out a wad of bills, “They want me to give you this.” Magnus leapt up to grab his prize, “Bonus?” he purred, fanning himself with the money, “Because I’m _sensational_ ,” he drew out every syllable.

 

“Oh yes, of course _and_ they want you to do another job. Magnus nodded, “When?”

 

“We know it's a tight turnaround,” the older man handed him a postcard, “tomorrow. All the information is there” Magnus examined it, “sure,” he replied, looking only mildly put out. “Tuscany will be beautiful this time of year,” Ragnor assured him. Magnus looked up, “You want to come?”

 

“No.” _How predictable_ , Magnus thought. “Well, then can I take someone else?” Ragnor just gave him a stern look. Magnus gave a good attempt at an innocent puppy dog face, “I just want someone to play with,” he smirked as Ragnor started heading towards the door. “You play in Tuscany. And we will watch a movie when you come back.”

 

Magnus was about to shout back, but this time it was Ragnor who beat him to it, “You don't mean that!” he impersonated Magnus’s faux outraged tone, “Yeah, yeah,” he said in his own gruff accent, closing the door behind him, leaving just Magnus and his cat.

 

The assassin raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow at the cash and postcard before sitting down in front of the laptop in his office, lovingly nicknamed “the lair” due to his propensity to collect weird items and trinkets that sometimes looked like ingredients for a potion.

 

On the front of the postcard was a cliche image of rolling Tuscan hills and vineyards, and on the back was a code, stamped out clearly. Magnus typed that into his secured network. Suddenly a flood of information filled his screen, casting his face in a green blue glow.

 

There in the center of the screen was a smiling, happy looking man. It said his name was Valentine Morgenstern. “Aw, nice face,” Magnus drawled insincerely. He enlarged the picture, staring at the man’s eyes, already imagining what they’d look like as he took his last breath.

 

\------------------------------------------------

 

Alec was leaned back in his swivel chair in his very beige office. The most colorful thing about it was the matching bright red of his sister’s nails and lipstick where she sat across from him. In between them sat two suspicious looking black tablets. He glanced back up at Izzy, disbelief set into his eyebrows. “That looks terrifying..Does it burn?”

 

Izzy waved a hand, “No it just strips your stomach so you can't feel anything.” Alec’s eyebrows contorted even more, “Oh. Cool,” he muttered derisively. He still knocked them back with coffee though. Anything to help alleviate his hangover. He wasn’t much of a regular drinker.

 

Izzy was already re-focused on her computer, “Ok, so her name is Kasia Molkowska. And we’ll need two officers on each shift.” Alec nodded while gagging from the pills, “By the angel, that’s gross. Where do they want her overnight?”

 

“Don't know. They haven't transferred her from the station yet,” Izzy shrugged, looking back up at him. “Really?” He thought for a second, “Was it the 75th precinct?” His sister nodded, “Yup.” Alec checked the time on his smartphone, “So she's still there?”

 

“Yeah apparently she's a bit of a character.”

 

Alec nodded, thoughts already racing, but trying to look casual. Not that he’d ever been able to convince Izzy of anything, she was too perceptive, and he was a bad actor “Ok. Um ... you know I’m gonna, I'm gonna pop down there quickly.”

 

“Why?” She looked unimpressed.

 

His traitorous voice got higher, “No reason. Just get those officers assigned to her and I'll sign off,” he stood up just as Luke walked in the room.

 

“Did we sing Disney last night?” he opened with.

 

Both Lightwood siblings responded with a “Yes,” although Izzy’s was gleeful and Alec’s was full of regret.

 

“Damn,” Luke said, shaking his head. He looked mildly tired, and Alec supposed that was just Luke’s version of being a hungover mess.

 

Just then, said boss caught Alec putting on his leather jacket. “Where are you going, Lightwood?”

 

Alec froze. “To the bathroom?..” Luke raised an eyebrow, noting how Alec already had his car keys in his hand. “have you at least done the report yet?”

 

Alec nodded quickly. “Okay, good work, kiddo.” He raised his hand, palm up, “Now..I think you owe me fifty.”

 

Alec just stared at the hand confused, “huh?” Luke replied easily, “CCTV from Vienna turned up. It was just a boring straight white guy.”

 

“Wait, what? Since when? When did it turn up?”

 

“Since the meeting,” Luke shrugged, “Aldertree just told me-”

 

“But _he_ said there wasn’t-”

 

Luke coughed, “I don’t have all day, Lightwood.”

 

“Have you seen it?” Alec was like a dog with a bone. “Of course not,” his boss replied.

 

“Why not?”

 

Luke let his hand drop, “Stop it. There's a difference between thinking it was a gay man and wanting it to be one,” he gave Alec a look he couldn’t decipher. Under his breath he said, “Maybe you’re projecting-”

 

Izzy cut him off, “Who's gay?”

 

Alec squirmed in his hot jacket, before digging into his wallet and handing Luke a $20 bill, “You’ll get the rest when I see the tape.”

 

Luke pocketed it then finally grimaced like a normal hungover person. “I'm gonna try to throw up. I suggest you do too,” and with that stellar advice, he left, entering his own private office.

 

“I wanna see that CCTV!” Alec exclaimed mostly to himself.

 

“What was that all about?” Izzy asked. He remembered where he was, “Nothing. I'm going to the station.”

 

“Why!” Izzy was getting exasperated.

 

Alec just smiled in a reassuring manner, “Just don't tell Bill. You're the best, I love you, you're amazing, goodbye,” he bent down to give his sister a quick kiss on the forehead, and with that he was gone.

 

\------------------------------------

 

Alec sat down in the interview room with a translator beside him and Kasia in front of him. The room was softly lit in the afternoon light, but everything about the woman’s face looked stark and severe. She was muttering what seemed like gibberish to Alec. It was actually Polish.

 

“Ciemno bylo... Nie wiem... Wy swinie ... Nie mozna wam wierzyc ... Wszyscy jestescie chujami,” Kasia muttered deliriously.

 

Alec raised an eyebrow and looked to his right to see if his translator, Raj could tell him what she’d said. But Raj just shook his head. “I'm sorry. She's unintelligible. She's mainly swearing.” Alec wanted to roll his eyes, but tried to remain polite, “Oh that's ok. She's had a hell of a night. I just need to know if she's aware of anyone who might want to harm her while she’s in the country?”

 

Raj turned back to Kasia, “Czy myslisz, ze cos Ci grozi w tym kraju, ktos chce Cie skrzywdzic?” _Do you know of anyone in this country who might want to hurt you?_

 

This time, Kasia’s Polish came out in bits of off pitch singing. Raj turned to the man behind him, “Can we get her some water maybe?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over her increasingly loud and frantic singing.

 

Alec tried to reign the situation in again, “Has she mentioned Vienna? Or anything about her boyfriend’s killer?”

 

“I think she is saying they were drunk or - or she's drunk now - she mentioned something, was it tall or dark - God, I'm sorry,” Raj blanched apologetically.

 

“Ask her if it was a man or a woman.” Raj obliged, “To byl mezczyzna czy kobieta?” _Did you see a man or a woman?_

 

Kasia just laughed and garbled again, “Psycholka..Kochający Inaczej..” 

 

Alec saw Raj look confused, “Does anyone in the department speak heroin polish?” he asked, then when nobody responded, “No I mean, I’m serious.” The man from before brought back a water bottle.

 

Alec stood up in frustration, turning to Kasia himself, “Rusz dupe i do lózka!” _Move your arse and go to bed!_

 

Raj looked at Alec in surprise, “Oh, you speak Polish?”

 

“No, my frie- My wife’s family is Polish. I’ve just picked up on a couple of phrases.” He patted the arm of the man who brought the water bottle. “Thank you.” And with that, Alec Lightwood left the building, an idea already brimming in his head.

 

\--------------------------------------------

 

That’s how Alec found himself in the basement of the Eastern Orthodox church Lydia and her family attended, where she volunteered on weekends, teaching community members english and running the food pantry.

 

Sometimes Alec helped her out and volunteered there as well, but something about being in the church never sat right with him. He remembered their wedding there, where they were forced to have it to appease their family members. Both he and Lydia would have preferred a casual, low-key courthouse wedding, since this was her second marriage, and he was…...shy.

 

Yet here he was, ready to follow his hunch anyways.

 

Lydia finally caught sight of him and excused herself, “How are you?” He kissed her on the cheek, chaste as always. “I thought you’d go straight back to bed this morning.” Lydia waved a hand, “Oh I'm soldiering through. It’s a great turn out.” She gestured behind her at all the volunteers sorting through canned donations. “Wanna join?”

 

Alec shook his head, “I would, but I’m actually here for something else today.” She cocked her head and waited, “I need to borrow one of your Polish students,” he finished. She looked curious, but refrained from asking why. “Maybe….Underhill?”

 

She poked him teasingly, “My handsome friend Underhill? Should I be jealous?”

 

Alec blushed, “No, why would I-” Lydia mercifully spun around and went to collect him before he could finish.

 

That’s how half an hour later, Andzrej Underhill, Alec Lightwood, and Lydia Branwell found themselves hunched around an old fold out table with a pile of canned beans in the center, listening to the clandestine recording Alec had taken of Kasia’s interview.

 

Lydia raised an eyebrow, “Whoa. She is flying.” Underhill nodded in assent. “The translator couldn't get anything clear out of her. You recognise anything, Andzrej? It might be Millenial Polish or something?” Underhill nodded again, “What do you need?”

 

Alec smiled at him, “Just the description of the person she saw while she was on the street.” Lydia tugged Alec’s sleeve, “Here she goes. Tall, dark-” She paused abruptly and turned to Underhill, “If I said to you Kochający Inaczej, what would you say?” Underhill’s eyes grew steely, “I’d say my mother raised me better than to say such hateful things.”

 

Lydia slid her eyes back to Alec, “It’s a homophobic slur, I’m sure your college taught translator wouldn’t have ever had any reason to come across it in his studies.”

 

Alec could almost kiss Lydia, but settled on a hug. “That’s great! I mean, that’s definitely a terrible thing to say, but this means I was right!” He smiled at Underhill, “Excellent translating work,” the blonde man just blushed and nodded as Alec practically ran out of the basement.

 

“I’ll see you tonight! do widzenia!” _Goodbye_ , he called out over his shoulder.

 

Lydia and Andzrej just sat there looking at each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Andrew Underhill = Andrzej Underhill.....I'm so creative


End file.
